Back to the Future
by Juliana Brandagamba
Summary: [COMPLETE] The title gives it away a little, I fear. When the Argo sinks, Jason and his friends believe that they are going to drown. They could never have guessed what would actually happen.
1. The Argo and the Scapha

'Jason, MIND THAT ROCK!'

'Rock? Where?'

'Underneath us!'

'You were supposed to be keeping a look-out!'

'Oh, well, blame me!'

'Stop arguing, you two! Keep calm. I am sure –'

'Why is there water coming into the galley?'

'We're sinking!'

'We're not sinking! Everybody calm down!'

'There's water in the galley!'

'The boat's going over to one side!'

'Hold on to me, Ariadne –'

'Icarus, grab my hand!'

'We're turning over!'

'We're sinking!'

'I am sure there is a way of righting –'

'Don't tell me – triangles?'

'It's too late! We're going over!'

'Arrrrrrrrgh!'

'Help me, Pythagoras!'

'Grab my hand!'

'I'm going under!'

'Jason!'

'Icarus!'

'The boat's going over! Jump!'

'I can't – I'm slipping –'

And in a single, sudden movement, the _Argo_ flipped right over, landing on its crew and trapping them in the heaving sea.

All fell silent.

* * *

Jason opened his eyes, and immediately felt stinging saltwater rush into them, blinding him, disorientating him. His lungs were burning; it took him more than a moment to register that he was completely underwater and unable to breathe. Quickly he thrashed out with his arms and legs, trying to reach the surface, not even knowing how deep he was – and then he saw it, the light of the Sun, his salvation.

In one smooth movement he propelled himself upwards and broke the surface; a shower of droplets fountained around him, glistening in the bright sunshine. He trod water for a few seconds, catching his breath, trying to take stock of his situation.

Where were the others? Surely they hadn't – No! they couldn't have drowned –

As if in response to this desperate thought, another head broke the surface, shaking vigorously, showering Jason with water. It was Hercules. He stared at Jason for more than a few moments before saying, 'You're still alive!'

'Yes, but what about the others?'

Jason peered then into the translucent water, and suddenly distinguished a flash of blue cloth. 'Pythagoras!'

Without a second thought he dived under, and returned to the surface with an unconscious, but very much alive, Pythagoras. The young man was heavy in his arms: his clothes billowed out and threatened to drag him back under.

'And Ariadne? Icarus?'

Just then a shock of brown hair emerged from the waves, followed by the dishevelled face of Icarus, who had the Queen in his arms. She too was unconscious.

'I can't... hold on to her... much longer,' Icarus gasped, spitting out a mouthful of seawater, looking close to fainting himself. 'Where's the ship gone?'

And Jason glanced around him, wide-eyed, the question occurring to him as well. 'I don't know...'

'Is there anything we can hold on to?' Hercules thrashed at the waves, trying to keep himself afloat. 'Otherwise we'll all drown!'

'Yes, thank you, Hercules,' muttered Icarus. Then, suddenly, 'And what in heaven's name is that?'

Jason and Hercules swung round, following the young man's gaze. Hercules gave a cry of astonishment; Jason blinked, hardly daring to believe his eyes.

Approaching them was a medium-sized boat, but not the sort of boat that any of them had been expecting. This one was sail-less and bright yellow, and moving at a fair speed. Jason tried to cry out, but the cry was lost in his throat, through emotion more than anything else.

'Mac...' he murmured.

'What _is_ that?' asked Hercules.

'Some kind of sea-monster?' asked Icarus.

'It can't be...'

'Can't be what?' asked Hercules.

'It's the _Scapha_ ,' said Jason. 'It's Mac's ship... We've... No, I must be dreaming...'

'What are you blithering about?'

But Jason didn't have time to reply, as the craft was gaining on them. Holding tightly to Pythagoras with one hand, he waved wildly with the other, and began to shout – nothing in particular, just the name Mac and an ululating cry that seemed to carry far out across the ocean.

And then the ship was on them, and someone overboard had tossed out first the anchor, and then a couple of orange life-rings. One landed near to Jason, and he grasped it as best he could with his slippery hands; another splashed near to Hercules and Icarus, who stared at it.

'Hold on to it!' yelled Jason.

'But what is it?' breathed Icarus, whose gaze flicked from the ring to the boat and back again.

'It's safety,' cried Jason, grinning suddenly. 'Just hold on to it.'

And Hercules and Icarus both grabbed hold of the ring, too tired to object or even to ponder the strange happenings around them.

Jason looked up at the ship then, and saw a face he knew poking over the railings – the ragged beard, the twinkling eyes, it could only be – Mac.

He gave a cry that was choked with emotion, and sighed with relief as he waited to be rescued.

* * *

Pythagoras came to first, his eyes scrunching as he blinked the salt from them; then he coughed, spluttering and choking, his head coming away from the berth as he hunched over coughing; then his head fell back onto the pillow and his eyes opened fully.

Icarus and Jason both ran to his side, kneeling by him. Icarus's hand went automatically to Pythagoras's and he squeezed it; a ghost of a smile appeared on the mathematician's face.

'Where am I?' he murmured.

'You're safe,' replied Jason.

Pythagoras's eyes narrowed then, and he stared at the low ceiling. Then his hands fluttered to the cloth that swathed him. His own clothes were hanging from the ceiling, drying; he was wrapped in a thick blanket. 'The last thing I remember was the _Argo_ sinking...'

They were all distracted then by a cough from the opposite berth. Ariadne had woken up and was being attended to by Hercules, who gave her another blanket as she began to shiver. 'What is this place?' she asked at last, her voice weak.

Here all eyes went to Jason, who was, it seemed, the only person who knew remotely what was going on.

'The _Scapha_ ,' replied Jason, hesitantly. 'It's a ship... but a ship... from my time. The future, I mean. I think we've travelled in time.'

' _What_?!' Pythagoras, usually calm and composed, sat up in uncharacteristic astonishment. 'But surely that is impossible...'

'Well, not entirely, as I must have travelled in time to get to Atlantis,' Jason said, reasonably. 'When we went under... somehow we must have found a way back. Back to my own time.'

His four companions stared at him, shocked and speechless.

'Well, at least we didn't drown,' said Jason lamely. Then, changing the subject: 'You must be hungry. I'll see if Mac's got anything to eat.'

They were still watching him as he left the room. At great length Hercules spoke.

'That's not possible,' he said gruffly. 'We can't be in the future. That's ridiculous.'

'It is not entirely impossible,' Pythagoras chipped in.

'I suppose there's an equation for it,' snorted Hercules.

Pythagoras fell silent. Admittedly he didn't like being out of his depth when it came to science; he was just as confused as the others.

Just then Jason returned, carrying a brightly-coloured packet. 'They could spare these,' he said, waving them vaguely, forgetting rather that the others probably wouldn't recognise that particular brand of biscuits, or indeed any brand. He opened the packet and handed them round; the others took them a little cautiously.

'Mac's making some tea,' Jason said then, finding the silence awkward. He knew how strange it must be for his friends: he could remember how he had felt on finding himself in Atlantis. But they would have so much to learn, so many new things to find out about!

Hercules nibbled at the biscuit, and raised one eyebrow. 'Not bad, actually. But what is it?'

Jason could only show him the packet once again. The silence was broken by the entrance of Mac, who was carrying a plate with five mugs on it. 'Here you go. Milk – sugar –' he handed Jason a jug and a pot, 'and tea for all of you.' He handed round the mugs, noticing how bewildered everyone looked and feeling a little disturbed. 'Anyway, Jason – you were going to tell me who all these people are, and where they all came from.'

Jason closed his eyes momentarily. 'Yes, I was,' he said, slightly reluctantly. 'Very well then. But I should warn you – it's a long story...' He paused. 'And you're probably not going to believe it.'


	2. Cornwall

'You were right.'

Mac sat back looking a little dazed. Jason offered him his tea; the older man took a long, slow gulp of the hot liquid.

'Right about what?' queried Jason.

'I don't believe you.'

Jason sighed, though it was only to be expected. Who _would_ believe his bizarre tale of wars, romance and adventure in the mythical city of Atlantis? He was starting to doubt it himself. Only the presence of his friends around him reassured him that his story had in fact happened.

'Well, I believe it,' he said stubbornly.

'Jason, you've only been gone four hours.'

' _What_?' cried Jason.

'You're trying to tell me that you went to the bottom of the ocean, almost drowned, ended up in ancient times, fought Minotaurs and evil queens, and became king of Atlantis – and came back in time for tea.'

'Well, where did all these people come from then?' asked Jason, frustrated now. 'Pythagoras – _the_ Pythagoras – Icarus – the one with the wings – they're all real!'

'That's reassuring,' said Hercules vaguely; he was still a little convinced that he was dreaming. Any moment now he would wake up and Jason would be yelling at him not to fall asleep on lookout duty.

At a cry from the deck, Mac stood. 'We're nearing the coast,' he announced. 'I'll talk to you later.'

And he left them to watch after him in disappointment and confusion.

'Nobody's going to believe my story,' said Jason quietly. 'And if we can't get back – you'll just have to act normal and modern.'

'But we _are_ normal and modern,' protested Icarus.

Jason sighed. 'Not here, you're not.' He pointed to the boy's still-full cup of tea. 'Drink that – it'll help.'

 _And if it doesn't help, nothing will_ , he reflected, sinking back into the bewildering world of his own thoughts.

* * *

Jason stood out on deck, the wind in his hair, shivering a little for he was used to the heat of Atlantis, watching the craggy granite cliffs that formed the Cornish coastline draw ever nearer. Beside him, Ariadne, pulling her blankets tighter around herself, slipped her arm round his waist and looked out over the sea with wide eyes.

'Is this your country?' she asked. 'Is this... England?' She tried the unusual word on her tongue, pronouncing it slowly.

'It's England.' Jason paused. 'Well, England's not a country, it's part of the UK really...' He stopped himself before he confused his wife further.

'I haven't heard of it.'

'No, well, when... back in your time, in our time I mean, almost nobody lived there. Now...'

'Now what?'

'Well, it grew.'

'And what of Atlantis?'

The silence was broken only by the waves lapping calmly at the hull and by the seagulls that followed the spray from the boat. Jason bit his lip so hard that it nearly bled. 'It... Well, nobody knows, really. But many people think that it was flooded and ended up at the bottom of the ocean.'

Ariadne emitted a cry halfway between disbelief and shock. 'Flooded? Atlantis?'

'I'm sorry...'

Jason bent over to kiss his wife's forehead, but she pulled away from him, her eyes sparkling with tears. 'So... Atlantis is lost? It... it no longer exists?'

'Yes...'

She swallowed and looked back towards the ever-nearing land. 'What's England like? Is it anything like Atlantis?'

'Not really, no.' The number of things he would have to teach his friends about! The number of things that they would marvel at or be shocked by on their arrival in his country! What would become of them? Would they ever fit in?'

'We'll find a way back, I promise.'

It wasn't a promise. He had no idea how they would get back. Realistically, they would have to spend the rest of their lives in the modern day. They would miss Atlantis dearly, but...

Ariadne did not reply, and without a word she disappeared back into the cabin that housed the others.

* * *

The four of them stood around watching Mac, Jason and the rest of the crew mooring the boat and making sure she was tied securely in the harbour. Soon the job was finished and Jason went back to his friends, noticing how scared they all looked, huddling up to each other on the jetty and staring around them with wide eyes.

'Are you taking them up to the house?' asked Mac. 'Don't know if we can feed them all tea though. There wasn't much of anything left in the cupboard last time I looked. And you might have to go for some more milk.'

'Will do,' called back Jason. He turned to his friends. 'I won't bewilder you with modern shops just yet,' he said. 'Let's go to my house, see if we can find you some food and proper clothes.'

'But these _are_ proper clothes.' They had all got back into their (admittedly slightly damp) clothing and were attracting a few curious stares from people on the quayside.

'Don't tell me we have to wear what they're wearing.' Hercules was pointing into the middle distance at a few groups of people walking along the seafront, most of whom were in jeans or shorts, and not much else in many cases.

Jason did not reply. He was too busy doubting whether any of his clothes would even fit Hercules, never mind suit him. And where would he find anything for Ariadne?

* * *

Second cups of tea were due for the entire group when they at last came up to Jason and Mac's house, which was near to the sea and adjoined a row of seaside shops. The flashing lights of a casino shocked them all and mildly fascinated Pythagoras, who wanted to know how they worked; Jason dragged him away murmuring 'Later' whilst determining not to let any of them loose in a casino. Especially not Hercules.

Pythagoras's attention was then drawn to the kettle with which Jason made the tea, whilst Icarus found himself occupied by the fridge; Hercules was inspecting the unfamiliar foods that were in the cupboards, and Ariadne contented herself with just looking around at everything.

'So much has changed,' she breathed; they all seemed to have resigned themselves to the notion that they were far in the future, and that there would be many things to get used to.

'I'm sure you'll get used to it.' Jason paused. 'Ariadne – you'll like it, I know you will. Hercules – there's a really good pub down the road. Icarus, Pythagoras – science has come so far – and – oh!'

'What?' the two scientists asked at once.

'Well... Pythagoras, I really should find you a textbook on geometry. There's a theorem that might interest you...' He suddenly laughed. How could he have forgotten how famous his friend would become? Indeed all of them – for both he and his friends were, quite literally, legendary characters.

But that was not the true matter at hand. He needed to quell their fears, to get them used to modern society – and, if possible, find a way back.


	3. Worlds apart

Life with Mac was chaotic at the best of times. His various jobs at sea, and Jason's part-time work in the town, brought in just enough money for the two of them to live reasonably in their little house by the sea. Now, suddenly, there were four extra mouths to feed, four extra people to house somehow in a cottage that barely held two. This issue was the first brought up at the dinner-table that night, for Mac was practical above all else, and despite his disbelief in Jason's story, he accepted that the four strangers were real.

'You're telling me this woman's your wife?' he asked, pointing to Ariadne with a plastic knife whilst stabbing vaguely at his takeaway with a plastic fork. He had bought them each a portion of fish and chips – "can't go wrong with fish and chips", he had said, which had proved a foolish opinion, for the people of Atlantis had never eaten such food before and did not particularly like it.

Jason nodded shyly, his hand finding Ariadne's under the table.

'Well, I suppose she'll have to stay then.'

'What about the others?' asked Jason quickly, not wanting Mac to dismiss his friends and force them to make their own way in a world that wasn't their own.

'Well...' Mac's gaze went from the slightly scared face of Pythagoras to the defiant face of Icarus, to the somewhat resigned face of Hercules, who was scoffing his food with rapidity, if not enjoyment.

'They can stay for a bit,' he said at last. 'But they can't live here forever. Much as I would like to help your friends, Jason – we simply can't afford it.'

* * *

'Pythagoras?'

'Mm?'

'Can you not sleep either?'

'Not really.'

There was a rustling of bedcovers as Icarus turned over, trying to see Pythagoras. Though the night was lighter than those he was used to – there was some sort of light just outside that was getting on his nerves rather – he wasn't sure he liked sleeping in the creaky old cottage in the dark.

'What do you think will happen to us?'

'I don't know, Icarus.'

'Will I ever see my father again?'

Icarus's voice cracked. The situation had only just dawned on him – it had just occurred to him that never getting back to Atlantis was a very real possibility.

'If Jason got to Atlantis from here, then there must be a way.'

'Mm...'

Pythagoras found what he thought was Icarus's nose and kissed it lightly. 'We should try to get some sleep. Pretend we are still in Atlantis.'

'If only,' muttered Icarus, rolling over and closing his eyes.

* * *

'It's simple really.'

Jason was bumbling about the kitchen, setting out bowls, and then plates when he ran out of bowls; then he set a box of cornflakes on the table before going to the fridge for the milk. Pythagoras, Icarus and Ariadne had all turned up for breakfast; Hercules was still snoring loudly in the next room. Mac was also absent, as he set off early for the boatyard every morning and was rarely at home.

'What's simple?' asked Icarus.

Seeing that none of his friends had made a move towards the cornflakes, Jason poured some out for each of them. 'You can put milk on them if you like. I think they taste better – they're a bit dry without – I mean, Mac eats them dry, but that's because he doesn't want to run out of milk.' For the first time in his life he found himself terribly embarrassed for living in such a poor household. He knew now what Pythagoras must have felt like when he moved in after arriving in Atlantis.

'Well, when I ended up in Atlantis, it was because I had gone under the sea in a submarine, and then something happened – I think I almost drowned – and then – and then I was in Atlantis.'

Jason had briefly mentioned this in his account of his adventures the previous day, but it still sounded fairly incredible to the others.

'Anyway, we got back here in pretty much the same way, so if we want to get back...'

Pythagoras almost choked on his breakfast. 'You mean we should try to almost drown and then we might get back?'

'It's a bit risky...' Jason sighed. 'Okay, so it's a bit insane, but it's our only chance.'

'And if it doesn't work?' Ariadne, who had been silent until that point, now stared at Jason with wide and rather fearful eyes.

'Well... we drown.'

'That does not sound favourable,' Pythagoras muttered, munching on his cornflakes, which were at a perfect state of milkiness due to his proficiency at pouring things at precisely the right angle.

'What doesn't sound favourable?' Hercules stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed. He sat at the table; Jason pushed a plate piled with cornflakes towards him.

'Drowning,' said Pythagoras with a weak smile.

'No, not really.' Hercules nibbled at a cornflake. 'Have you got any more of those... biscuit things from yesterday?'

'You don't eat biscuits for breakfast,' Jason said.

'Well, I don't usually eat dried leaves either,' said Hercules. Jason couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but decided not to ask.

'What do you want to do today?' Jason asked at length.

'Can you show me the theorem that you mentioned yesterday?' asked Pythagoras, looking eager for the first time since arriving in the future.

Jason couldn't help laughing. 'Yes, okay, there's a library in town, I'll show you.'

'A library!' Pythagoras's eyes lit up.

'We'll go to the library first,' Jason decided. He loaded up the dishwasher and set it going, and then smiled. 'Let's go then.'

* * *

It wasn't a big library, but it was a pleasant and cosy one, and surprisingly well-stocked. Pythagoras and the others were however surprised to find it filled not with scrolls but with books. Jason explained briefly that books were simply collections of scrolls, and Pythagoras seemed quite pleased with this particular technological progression, scurrying to the reference section and burying himself in the first book he came to, which happened to be a travel guide to Australia, and which he found singularly fascinating, despite never having known that the country, or even continent in which it was located, existed.

He was busy scrutinising the map in the back cover when Jason came over, casting his shadow over the page with another book that he had opened for Pythagoras's inspection. Pythagoras set down his book carefully and received the one Jason was proffering, which was about geometry.

The young mathematician's eyes quickly fell on the words Jason had meant him to see: "Pythagoras's theorem". A sharp gasp escaped him, and he stared, stunned, at the page, looking at it without seeing it. Eventually his eyes focused enough for him to inspect the accompanying diagram.

'But that's the theorem...'

'...that you were first to prove, I know,' Jason replied with a chuckle. 'They named it after you.'

'But... but...' Pythagoras stammered, his cheeks burning but a shy smile beginning to spread across his face. All of a sudden he felt a lump in his throat. 'But that means...'

'...that you're probably one of the most famous people from the ancient world,' finished Jason, still laughing at his friend's astonished impression and feeling his heart leap.

'But I just proved it, I didn't...'

'Try explaining that to centuries of teachers and schoolchildren.' Jason put his arm around his friend's shoulder as tears sprang to Pythagoras's eyes. 'Have a look at the other maths books if you like; I'm going to find Hercules a book about Greek mythology...'


	4. Shopping

Mac had been so relieved to see Jason alive and well that he hadn't given any thought to the vessel that had carried him beneath the waves. Now however he was occupied with the search for the missing submarine, since that Jason had been able to tell him only that it seemed to have vanished. That couldn't be possible, so Mac had gone back out to sea in the hope of locating it, if not recovering it. It was an expensive piece of equipment to lose – a regrettable loss, even if it hadn't been preventable.

He leaned out over the railings, over the sea, which was significantly more turbulent today as the autumn storms set in. They were scanning the sea bed, searching for traces, anything that might give them a clue as to what had really happened the previous day after Jason had gone to look for his father.

His father! Jason had said yesterday that his father had been a consort of one of the queens of Atlantis... that he had died at the hands of her men. So he had found him, only to lose him again. What he had been through in Atlantis, if his story had any truth in it...

But of course it didn't have any truth in it.

So where had the other four come from?

His thoughts, which were becoming increasingly nonsensical, were interrupted by a shout from the other side of the ship. 'We've got something!...'

Mac hurried to the radar screen; a young sailor – Harry, Mac thought he was called – was watching it intently.

'What is it?' asked Mac, scrutinising the little screen.

'I don't know; there was something –' Harry shrugged. 'It's gone... Probably a fish,' he said, laughing, but uncertainly. 'Quite big though. Not far beneath us.'

Mac raised one eyebrow. They were at pretty much the exact spot where they had found Jason and the others yesterday. He might have said that it was the submarine, except for... Well, the submarine would be further down, and wouldn't vanish like that.

'Tell me if you spot anything else,' Mac said, and went back up onto the deck.

* * *

'Does nobody wear any decent clothes in the future?'

Hercules, talking a little too loudly, studied the rail with something akin to disgust.

'Well, we're in a charity-shop, so the clothes won't be...' Jason trailed off. The clothes represented in the little charity-shop were in fact fairly normal specimens. 'But please, _please_ stop calling it the future. People are looking at us strangely.'

'People have been permanently looking at us strangely,' said Pythagoras, rather too cheerfully. 'I would not let it bother you.'

Ariadne brought over a long blue dress that was in fact very pretty and shyly showed it to Jason. He nodded and said that she would look lovely in it – which she would, but he didn't have the heart to tell her that it was more of a party-dress, and not much different from the one she was already wearing. 'You can try it on if you want,' he said, pointing towards the changing-room at the back of the shop.

Meanwhile Icarus was looking at the jeans on one rail. 'These are like the ones you wear,' he said to Jason. 'Aren't they?'

'Well, those are women's jeans, actually,' said Jason lamely, casting a glance towards the girl at the till, who was pretending to ignore them. 'The men's trousers are over here...'

His friends had accepted a good deal of futuristic things much better than Jason thought they would. The food they weren't especially fond of, except for potatoes and chocolate (the latter had been praised by all of them), but they didn't mind it; the style of houses they rather admired, and Jason had refrained from telling them that actually, this was an unusually pretty fishing-village and that most places weren't quite as nice; and they had even got used to the idea of everything working by electricity, which wasn't, admittedly, as strange to them as the use of magic in their own time. But clothes...

Eventually each of Jason's companions had tried on and bought clothes that they could put up with, and Pythagoras had also managed to persuade Jason to let him get an old maths revision guide. They left the shop then and headed for the little supermarket, which was tucked behind the row of seafront shops so as not to spoil the idyllic view. The others had not yet been to the supermarket, and Jason was slightly worried that he might end up spending more money than usual, but luckily they kept mostly silent, for they did not know most of the foods. They ended up buying quite a lot of fruit, though, because they recognised and liked quite a lot of it.

After that they walked along the seafront back to the house; Jason, seeing that the _Scapha_ was not in the harbour, looked out to sea, but could not see the ship. They stopped briefly then, all of them staring out over the waves, feeling a little more at home, for much the same view could be had standing on the walls that surrounded Atlantis.

'But will we ever see that view again, I wonder?' asked Ariadne, her voice tinged with the heartache that all of them, even Jason, felt but hid.

'At least we're all here,' Jason said. 'It would have been much worse if we had all been separated.' He smiled bravely round at his friends; Ariadne and Hercules smiled back, understanding, but Icarus's eyebrows furrowed and his face seemed to fall dramatically. He turned so that they wouldn't see the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

Jason looked quizzically at Pythagoras, who merely mouthed the name _Daedalus_. Jason's eyes widened slightly and he found himself regretting his comment.

'Come on; we'd better be getting back,' he said simply; and all of them, their mood dampened rather, followed him up the hill.

* * *

That evening Icarus found Pythagoras in the tiny living-room, curled up by the fire with his maths textbook; and the room was filled with music that sounded bizarre to his ears.

'What is that?' he asked, trying to find the source of the noise; his eyes eventually settled on Mac's old record-player, which stood on top of Jason's rather newer CD player.

'Jason calls it a record-player,' Pythagoras explained, looking up from the book with a smile. 'It plays music.'

'That much was obvious,' said Icarus chuckling. 'But I've never heard music like that before.'

'Jason said it was classical music or something. He says we might like it more than modern music. It is rather nice.'

Icarus could not help but agree: the rich textures of the music were interesting and unusual, quite unlike anything he knew. Then he sat by Pythagoras and put his arm awkwardly around him, reading over his shoulder.

'You will probably find this dull,' laughed Pythagoras, closing the book.

'Perhaps.' Icarus leaned against Pythagoras's shoulder. 'Could you stay here, Pythagoras? For the rest of your life, I mean?'

'Only if you were here.'

Icarus smiled vaguely. 'But could you? Do you like it here? Don't you miss Atlantis too much?'

Pythagoras could sense where this was going. 'Probably not as much as you do.'

'My father...' The lump in his throat choked him for a moment. 'I want to go back, Pythagoras. I really want to go back.'

'I know...' Pythagoras embraced him with both arms, and they sat there in silence for a bit, finding solace in each other's company. 'There must be a way. I am sure of it. I shall find one.'

'And I presume it will involve triangles,' said Icarus, managing to laugh despite the tears that fell at last from his eyes.


	5. Slim Chances

The search for the submarine resumed the next day, and this time the crew included Jason. He had left his friends in the town – they had refused to come due to their recent bad experiences involving ships – and though this had been a reluctant decision, they had assured him that they would be fine.

Mac had insisted that Jason come as the latter knew far more about the submarine's final journey than he did. Jason had told him many times that actually, his memories of the incident were somewhat blurred and mostly consisted of trying not to drown, but Mac had said that he might be useful.

So here he was, re-visiting the place that now for him represented not one but two bad memories. It was not a cheerful thought. As he waited for them to reach the spot, a younger sailor recounted to him the events of the previous day – a mostly fruitless search but with the minor excitement when he himself had spotted something on the radar screen.

Jason was naturally curious, but nobody could tell him more. However, their conversation was interrupted by a shout from the other side of the boat.

He couldn't quite hear what Mac was saying but he thought he could distinguish the word flotsam. Therefore he and the young sailor Harry ran round to where Mac was standing, and now holding something that he had probably fished out of the water.

'What did you say your ship was called again?' Mac asked gruffly.

'What? – Oh, the _Argo_.'

Wordlessly Mac passed him the item in his hands. Jason could not restrain the gasp that leapt up his throat – it was a piece of wood that bore his ship's name clearly, and which had evidently been torn from it by the water or the rocks. He stared at it in disbelief, and at length asked, 'Where... where did this come from?'

'Just found it in the water. Presume it's from your ship?'

Mac's voice was quiet, a little embarrassed perhaps.

'Anyway, we're near the place where you came from... from Atlantis. Seems some of your ship came through too.'

Jason weighed the wood in his hands, remembering his beautiful ship and hardly able to believe that it had run aground, that it had been destroyed by a single careless moment.

'I don't want to believe your story, but I do.'

Jason looked up into Mac's crinkled eyes, unsure of how to respond to this. It was good, of course, that someone believed his crackpot tale – but that didn't change what had happened.

'Don't think we'll find any more of the ship though. We'd better get back to looking for that sub.'

And Mac left Jason, who stood in silent thought, his eyes never leaving the letters carved into the piece of wood: the last remnant, it seemed, of the _Argo_.

* * *

The other four Atlanteans had brought their lunch to the seafront as a bit of a picnic, for it was a beautiful day and they had little else to do; and so they found themselves on a bench, munching on sandwiches with rather obscure fillings (they had made them themselves), watching the waves rolling gently towards the shore, and batting away the hungry gulls that swooped down and threatened to snatch their food from their hands. It should have been perfect, except that they felt entirely out of place and a little lost.

'I hope Jason finds a way back,' said Icarus to fill a lull in the conversation, tossing a piece of bread to an over-eager seagull.

'The chances are very slim,' Pythagoras admitted, 'but not impossible,' he added, seeing his friend's face fall.

'Do you think that people in Atlantis would believe us if we said we'd seen the future?' Icarus asked then.

'Definitely not,' said Hercules, who was already imagining the looks on people's faces when he told them that beer would become less watered down, there would be an abundance of rich food and there would be specific shops for gambling.

'They might do,' countered Pythagoras. 'Stranger things have happened in Atlantis.'

They all had to smile, recalling the numerous escapades in which they had been caught up, several of which had been far more bizarre in many ways than this particular adventure.

'Sorry to spoil the mood,' said a voice behind them, and they all jumped and turned to see Jason, who had just come up from the boatyard: the _Scapha_ had returned.

'What is it?' asked Ariadne, worried.

'We've just found this near to the place where we emerged,' Jason said, handing them the piece of the _Argo_. All of them studied it in silence; at length Pythagoras spoke.

'So does that mean...'

'That the _Argo_ is probably wrecked, yes,' Jason replied miserably.

'So...'

'If we did manage to find a way back, we would risk being stranded in the middle of the sea with no way back to land,' Jason explained. 'Our chances are looking increasingly unfavourable.'

'But you were washed up on the beach at Atlantis,' said Hercules. 'Weren't you?'

'Yes...' Jason paused. 'There are too many dangers though. I don't want any of you losing your life trying to get back.'

Though they all understood this heartfelt sentiment, Icarus could not help but voice what had occurred to all of them: 'That's a risk I'd be prepared to take.'

* * *

'You can't.'

'I can, and I shall.'

'You can't!'

'I can.'

'I won't let you risk your life like that!'

'But, Pythagoras –'

The young mathematician put up his hand to silence Icarus, who stared indignantly at him.

'Icarus,' he said, his voice trembling and betraying the emotions that he was trying to hide, 'It is as Jason said – there are too many dangers. You could drown; you could end up stranded in the middle of nowhere –'

'It's worth the risk,' said Icarus stubbornly.

'Is it? Is it though?'

Pythagoras looked Icarus straight in the eye, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him.

'I believe it is.'

'I can't let you go.'

'But we would be together.'

Pythagoras shook his head. 'I am afraid that I would not attempt such a thing with such a dismal chance of success. There must be another way.'

'That's what you keep saying. There isn't always another, better way. We would have found it by now.'

Icarus made to turn away, but Pythagoras stopped him, one hand on his shoulder, one hand creeping to the boy's face. Tears ran down his own cheeks; Icarus suddenly felt immensely guilty.

'Stay for me, Icarus, please. Until we find a safer way back. I couldn't bear it if you –'

And then they were both in tears, and found themselves locked in a tight embrace, Pythagoras never wanting to let go, Icarus knowing he couldn't leave without Pythagoras. The situation was a terrible one, and neither of them wished to stay in the future much longer, but they knew in their hearts that it didn't matter where they were as long as they were together.

* * *

'That big thing you noticed yesterday...'

Jason posed the question hesitantly, wondering if Mac had dismissed the sighting as unimportant.

'The big thing Harry noticed, you mean?'

'Well, yes. But... I mean, this is going to sound really stupid, but – if there was such thing as a – a time-portal, like in science-fiction, I mean... I mean, if I came through some sort of portal, and you were right above that point... If it was unstable, that might explain why it vanished.'

'Science-fiction is fiction,' Mac said bluntly. 'I expect it was a dolphin or a fish or something.'

'But we must have come through some sort of portal,' Jason said. 'And if it's still there... How did the nameplate of the _Argo_ come through? It hadn't floated far from the point where...'

'Have you been showing your friends _Doctor Who_ or something?'

'Don't you believe me?' cried Jason.

'I did. I do. But I can't. Your friends I can accept exist. The nameplate... that definitely exists. But time-portals? This is getting ridiculous, Jason.'

Mac left the room with the beginnings of a headache and a whirling mind; and Jason sat and thought on this idea, for it had occurred to him suddenly if he could locate the submarine followed by the portal, he might well have found a way back.


	6. A Sea of Memories

It was only when Jason took them all out for ice-creams the next day that he really thought about leaving his home for the second time. Ice-creams were a childhood weakness of his; he had vivid memories of being about ten and savouring every last drop of an immense chocolate heap piled high onto a complaining cone. Unless his memories didn't serve him well, ice-creams had definitely got smaller since then. But no less tasty.

He felt more at peace than he had for a long while then, sitting on the seafront, one hand at Ariadne's waist and one clutching his cornet; beside them Icarus and Pythagoras were sharing an ice-cream, and Hercules (well, of course) had a double cone all to himself. They were all so relaxed that it was as if the drama of the past few days had never happened.

But it had, it had all happened, and now they were going to reverse their fate and return to Atlantis. And he would have to leave Cornwall behind, with its cliffs and its little seaside villages, with its ice-creams from musical vans that were always out of tune, with his own house and Mac.

His heart was torn. He loved Atlantis. But he loved his own time. And he preferred neither.

'I don't suppose there's anything else you want to see before we go?' he asked after a long, reflective silence. There were so many things he wanted to see or do again that now occurred to him, sitting here amidst a cloud of memories of childhood days out. He remembered cream teas in Devon – admiring Exeter Cathedral – he remembered the first time he had been up to London, and looked out over the whole beautiful city from the top of the London Eye.

'I don't think so,' said Pythagoras falteringly, with a glance in Icarus's direction.

'We should go back,' added Ariadne, though she too was watching Jason, whose face stayed in the same place whilst his inner self drooped.

'I'll miss England,' he said quietly, so that only Ariadne heard him. She understood – not entirely but somewhat – and squeezed the hand that lay on her hip, knowing that the homesickness she felt for her kingdom was equalled in Jason for his own home.

He had to blink back tears as a particularly strong recollection came to him – of Mac buying him an ice-cream, a double one, even though he didn't have much money, because it was his birthday. He had eaten it on the beach and then played in the sea with Mac, the latter splashing him, lifting him when the big waves came, and smiling at him with that grizzled visage that would always be the first image to appear in his mind when he tried to recall the face of his father...

* * *

'Ship's got to go in for repairs,' Mac announced when he returned home, slinging his coat onto the hook and looking through to the lounge. He was surprised to see Pythagoras and Icarus there neatly folding their modern clothes and garbed in their old-fashioned clothing; Jason was with them, talking occasionally; he looked up when he saw Mac.

'Repairs?' he asked.

'The engine needs looking at. We might have to take her up to the yard at – what?' Mac asked as Icarus stared first at him, and then at Jason.

'How long will it take?' he asked, trying to make the question sound innocent.

'Depends what's wrong with her. Could be a few days; hopefully not more –' Mac sighed a little, and changed the subject. 'I've got pizza for tea. I hope your friends like it.' He was addressing Jason now; Jason nodded vaguely, and Mac left the room to prepare the dinner.

'A few days?' Icarus echoed in a quiet voice, his face falling.

'There isn't a proper yard down here,' Jason explained. 'The nearest is about twenty miles away. And the engine's quite delicate. And old. They might have to replace it.'

It was only once he had finished his speech that he realised that this was probably not what Icarus wanted to hear. The boy was getting more and more homesick as the days plodded by, and now their plans for setting off had been postponed by at least the same amount of time again. Hopefully he could trust Pythagoras to comfort him, because otherwise –

* * *

'Icarus? I have something to show –' Jason said casually as he walked into the living-room. There he saw Pythagoras but not Icarus; the former had his head buried in a book, and glanced up as Jason entered.

'I thought he was with Hercules,' he said.

'And Hercules thought he was with you,' said Jason. With a slightly exasperated sigh he turned on his heel and proclaimed: 'Icarus!' to the entire house.

The walls almost shook with the shout – he never liked yelling in the house; as a child he had thought it would make the whole place collapse – but there was no response.

Pythagoras seemed to start at the silence. 'Where is he?' he asked at length.

'He must be in the house.' Jason paused. 'Perhaps he's hiding.' He didn't want to say sulking.

'What is he's not?' Pythagoras, his face now contorted with a sudden worry, jumped up, his book falling to the floor with a crash. 'What is he's – he said last night – no –'

And Pythagoras ran out of the room with uncharacteristic speed, his tunic flying behind him. Concerned, Jason immediately took off after him, calling briefly to Ariadne and Hercules that he was going out briefly; and he followed Pythagoras outside and down the hill to the seafront.

The young mathematician stopped for breath at the sea wall, staring out over the harbour. When he realised that Jason had followed him he turned back towards him, his face pale.

'The ship that was on the end –' he stammered.

And Jason, who was still looking towards the sea, let out a gasp of horror and dismay. There, perhaps half a mile from the shore, was a little yacht – the _Lobster_ – with its sails raised, following an unsteady but determined path towards the horizon, towards the spot where the _Scapha_ had gone in search of the submarine.

'Jason, that's him.'

Pythagoras stared at the boat as if he couldn't quite believe it; then, in a split second, he made up his mind and ran down the front, heading for the steps leading down to the jetties where the boats were moored.

'Pythagoras, wait –'

'I can't wait! That's Icarus! He's going to –'

Neither of them wanted to finish the sentence. Jason put out his arm; his hand brushed against the blue of Pythagoras's tunic, but his friend slipped from his grasp and ran down the steps. Quickly Jason glanced behind him – why? he didn't quite know – and saw suddenly the familiar figures of Ariadne and Hercules, both jogging to him, their faces expressing the worry he felt: they had evidently guessed what was going on.

'Come on!' he shouted; Pythagoras was already padding down the jetty, heading for the boat that would have the easiest access to the open water. 'Icarus is in that boat there –' he pointed vaguely towards the horizon '– we need to be quick, come on, come on!'

And a minute later they were all in a small motor-boat – it belonged to one of Jason's friends; he hoped he wouldn't mind him borrowing it – and speeding towards the ever-disappearing dot that was Icarus on what seemed to them like nothing short of a suicide mission.


	7. A Boat Chase

The sea had looked flat as a mill-pond from the seafront: sparkling but barely rippling, beautiful and calm. But it had been terribly deceptive. Out here, almost a mile from the shore, the little yacht was pitching about rather more than Icarus would have liked. He knew a bit about sailing – Daedalus had gone through a boat phase at one point, trying to reach the highest possible speed by improving the efficiency and re-designing the sails – but he hadn't ever really listened properly. That was now something of a problem.

Seagulls above him seemed to mock him as he tried not to tangle himself in the assorted ropes; they swept down, gliding on the surface of the water, taking fish from the erratic spray that foamed behind him; some of them would land and swim alongside the yacht, as if to say "I'm more of a seaman than you and I don't even have a boat". Icarus scowled briefly at them but fixed his gaze quickly on the horizon, on the point for which he was heading.

Though the sea looked monotonous out here, Icarus's good memory served him well when remembering where it was they had come up. He would probably never forget the view from that very spot, when he had breached the surface with Ariadne in his arms and tried to work out what the hell was going on. Soon he would be back there and ready to return – or try to return – to Atlantis, to his home and to his father.

And he was prepared to risk anything to do so.

* * *

'Icarus!' yelled Pythagoras from the side of the motor-boat, leaning over the side, his eyes ever watching the distant yacht and the tiny figure upon it. His cry was lost to the breezes and the chopping of the motor-boat on the waves, cutting through them and making its crew feel slightly nauseous.

It was just at that moment that the dot that was Icarus moved slightly, turning perhaps; and Pythagoras knew that his eyes were on him, even though they could not see each other properly. Though they were a mile apart they could understand each other; the yacht slowed and began to bob a little.

* * *

And Icarus felt a deep-rooted regret for what he was about to do, but he would do it nonetheless.

* * *

'We're gaining on him,' called Jason from the cabin, wrenching the steering-wheel to the left so that the boat lurched wildly. And they were; within the minute they had drawn up alongside the other craft in a shower of spray, and Icarus was staring at them as if he couldn't quite believe they were there.

'Turn back, Icarus!' cried Pythagoras from the deck.

'I can't!' The young man's eyes blurred with tears, but he put it down to the salt in the air. And then: 'Come with me!'

'No, you mustn't!' Pythagoras shouted in desperation as the yacht came to a halt, and Icarus clambered to the edge, meaning to jump into the water.

'Icarus!' yelled Ariadne and Hercules in unison. Jason was trying to draw the motor-boat nearer, to reach Icarus, to get him to safety, but Icarus realised what he was doing – and hurled himself from the yacht into the sea.

'No!' cried Pythagoras, watching in sheer horror as the boy struggled a little in the waves, as if fighting with his very self; and then, just as the mathematician went for the life-ring, Icarus disappeared beneath the surface, and the sea closed over him.

And Pythagoras let out a long, low cry, and Hercules had to stop him from diving off the side himself – "You can't swim, Pythagoras!" – whilst Jason rushed from the cabin and squinted at the ever-shrinking ripples that marked where Icarus had gone under.

'I'll get him,' he murmured; and with a quick glance at the others he pulled off his shirt, thrust it towards a slightly bemused Ariadne and dived smoothly into the sea, his water-confidence much more pronounced than Icarus's had been.

Hercules clutched Pythagoras's shoulder as everything fell silent. Nobody dared to speak; they all stood waiting for Jason to surface, hoping to goodness that he wouldn't come up alone, that he would come up –

'There he is,' murmured Ariadne after a heart-stopping minute. A shadow was rising through the water; it broke the surface – it was Jason, and there in his arms was Icarus, who wasn't moving.

'The life-ring, quickly,' gasped Jason, spitting out a mouthful of water.

Hercules hurled the life-ring in his direction and Jason grabbed hold of it, using it to manoeuvre nearer to the boat; then he managed to put the unconscious Icarus over his shoulder and deftly scale the ladder on the side of the ship.

'What's... what's happened?' stammered Pythagoras.

'What I thought would happen,' Jason said shakily. 'He didn't get back to Atlantis and nearly drowned.' And he hesitated a moment, before demanding that Pythagoras fetch something warm from the cabin, so that Icarus didn't catch hypothermia; his friends jumped to the request, not quite knowing what hypothermia was but not liking the sound of it.

And when he returned Icarus was coughing and spluttering water onto the deck, revived by Jason* but not in a good state. Jason wrapped the blanket that Pythagoras had brought around Icarus.

'We should get him back to shore,' Jason said. 'Keep him warm, don't let him warm up too fast though, keep him talking if he wakes up, tell me if he gets worse.'

And after this gabbled order Jason returned to the cabin and piloted the motor-boat as fast as he possibly could back towards dry land.

Icarus recovered remarkably quickly: he had not been under for too long, and Pythagoras's care and embraces had kept him warm enough on the journey back to keep him from catching hypothermia. Nevertheless, he was more than a bit annoyed that he hadn't made it back to Atlantis.

'I should try again,' he said determinedly. 'The portal might return.'

'If there is in fact a portal,' said Jason.

'Well, how else are we supposed to get back?' asked Hercules.

'We might never get back,' Jason admitted in a low voice.

'You keep saying that. But you got to Atlantis, we got here – we should be able to get back as soon as the portal-thing's open.'

Jason hesitated for more than a second. 'Yes...'

'But you want to say goodbye to your own home properly first,' Ariadne said quietly.

Jason started. He had not voiced this before now – women were scarily good at guessing your thoughts sometimes. '...Yes. There are just a few places I want to go to – Devon, perhaps... London...'

His childhood memories were suddenly overwhelming, but he knew how his friends must be feeling. 'It sounds a bit selfish. I mean, we should get back...'

'I'm sure we can survive a short while more in the future,' Ariadne assured him, squeezing his hand.

Icarus and Pythagoras did not quite agree, but neither said anything. And at any rate, Icarus wasn't prepared to try to go alone again in a hurry.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Is there anything else anyone wants them to do in the future before they return? Yes, I am taking requests.**

* * *

*This presumably involved artificial resuscitation – which means, as I have just realised, that Jason got to snog Icarus in this story before Pythagoras did...

(Don't worry, Pythacarus will get to snog before it's over.)


	8. London

So this was it – goodbye. One final farewell to the country that was truly his home, and would ever be regardless of how long he spent in Atlantis. He decided that London would be their destination: a great capital to rival Atlantis, and filled with things he could show his friends, things he loved and still marvelled at.

His friends had been introduced to cars, of course, as over the course of their stay they had heard and seen the machines going up and down the hill outside the house, rather faster than they could quite comprehend. Pythagoras had been fascinated, wanting to know how they worked, how they were made, whether he could make one back in his own time. Jason had doubted this very much, and Pythagoras had eventually lost interest. However, showing him trains was probably a mistake: these were bigger and more impressive, and completely captivated him.

Whilst he was investigating the trains that pulled into the station, as well as the LED boards that hung above him, Jason bought the others coffee and sat them all down on a bench, watching the people who bustled around him. It was a small station, and so there were few people: just a handful waiting to get to London or Exeter or anywhere bigger really. He found himself wondering how the others would react to the amount of people in the London stations: probably more people would be in Waterloo when they arrived than there were in the whole of Atlantis.

The train arrived, and they had quite a nice ride north-east, skimming through countryside that made Jason's heart long to stay in England. They had a table on the train, and sat together discussing times that had been – normal conversation for once. All of them seemed happy enough, even Icarus, who could not help but admire the greenery that flashed past the window, a stark and verdant contrast to the bare scrub and dense forests that surrounded his home city.

And then they came to London Waterloo, a chaotic place for those unused to the British rail system. Jason's companions became disorientated, not quite walking in straight lines, staring up at everything with wide eyes: the great clock, a leftover of the grandness of the Victorian era; the shops, filled with customers grabbing a drink or buying a magazine for the next stage of their journey; people everywhere, indeed, so many that it was hard to navigate without bumping into them or their infinite luggage, trailed behind them or balanced on their arms; and the lingering smell of trains mixed with coffee, remarkable in how reminiscent of holidays it was, to Jason at least. Train stations were a necessity, and usually little-noticed, but sometimes they were rather splendid. And now especially, when he wondered if he would ever travel by anything other than horse or boat after today.

'So this is London...' he said vaguely, swinging them outside into the warmth: the blazing sun provided a noticeable difference in temperature to that of the air-conditioned interior. And there ahead of them was the London Eye, its great circle rotating slowly and rather grandly.

His friends stopped, stunned. Such an edifice was normal to Londoners, and to most Britons indeed, but they had never seen anything so big, so bizarre, so... well, actually, it was quite beautiful.

Jason couldn't afford to take them all on the Eye, and anyway he knew that Hercules was afraid of heights (though embarrassed to admit this), so they just took a stroll in the park below, by the Thames, along paths lined with other people, mostly tourists, many with their coats or cardigans tied around their waists – it was an unexpectedly marvellous day. Across the river from them were the Houses of Parliament, which Jason explained to be the seat of the government, and to be, in fact, a palace – the Palace of Westminster. He asked Ariadne cautiously what she thought; at length she admitted that it was quite nice, though not as nice as her own palace.

More ice-creams were due as they passed a stall selling them, and they relaxed on the grass, looking up at the azure sky and finding themselves rather enjoying the day out.

'I don't mind England,' Hercules said at last. 'It's nice, you know. Not grand or anything, but friendly. And the food's all right,' he conceded, with an exploratory lick of his ice-cream.

'I might let you in a pub today,' grinned Jason, who had thus far had serious doubts about letting Hercules into a modern public house, knowing what he was like in those in the ancient world. 'We could have a pub lunch, I suppose, unless anyone wants something else?...'

Nobody did, because they were all curious about what a pub lunch might entail, and didn't know enough about modern cuisine to be able to suggest anything else; Jason said that they would soon set out to see if they could find a sensible pub with a good reputation. Now however they remained on the grass, watching the clouds float by and feeling generally peaceful.

Ariadne couldn't help making a remark about the number of couples kissing or otherwise showing more passion that was acceptable in public where she came from. Jason looked at her carefully, wondering if she was genuinely disapproving or just dropping hints; and when a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, he decided on the latter and kissed her gently and yet passionately. Behind them Hercules rolled his eyes but smiled, wistfully perhaps. Icarus and Pythagoras shuffled a little awkwardly, but said nothing.

When Jason and Ariadne broke apart, Jason noticed this, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had forgotten to mention that their relationship was far more accepted here. He had just taken it in his stride, being from these enlightened times, and it was only now that he remembered that they too would be allowed to show affection in public. Hesitantly he told them so, and his friends all looked stunned but rather pleased by this particular progression in attitudes. Nevertheless, they did not dare to do anything more than just clasp each other's hands and smile shyly.

Eventually they set off for lunch, which was a roast dinner in something more like a restaurant than a pub. The dinner was quite cheap – it had to be; Jason was finding the amount of money in his wallet rather worrying – but rather nice, with large pieces of meat, fluffy Yorkshires (not quite the best, but then they weren't in Yorkshire) and the entire thing smothered in rich gravy. All of them had to admit that they had liked the meal.

The afternoon was something of a farewell tour for Jason. They walked past Buckingham Palace, and Jason explained about the Royal Family, finding it strange to think that in Atlantis he himself was a monarch; they visited Trafalgar Square, which led to a brief description of Lord Nelson's career, or at least all he knew of it, by Jason, and the nature of warfare in the centuries following the invention of gunpowder; and as evening drew near they stood on Westminster Bridge and took in the Thames, the cars and taxis that whizzed past, the occasional London bus; all those things that symbolised Britain and would ever hold a special place in Jason's heart.

And they found a hotel in which to spend the night; Jason booked three rooms, and disappeared into the one that would be his and Ariadne's, reflecting on the day and deciding that much as he loved London and Britain – and he loved them so very much – he would put up with living anywhere as long as Ariadne was with him. Atlantis, England: they weren't important. He would miss Britain. He missed Atlantis. But as long as he was with his friends, nothing else mattered to him.


	9. Loose Ends

It was a beautiful morning, and perfect for a slow stroll around the park before heading back to the station and home. Pythagoras and Icarus, a little more confident in the quiet and calm of the morning, and with the lack of people except for dog-walkers and joggers, went arm-in-arm, finding themselves rather happier than they thought they could ever be so far from home.

The station was as busy as ever, and Jason shepherded them all through the crowds, and then left them on the platform before disappearing off "to buy something for Mac". Just before the train arrived he returned, a nondescript carrier bag hanging from his arm, about which he said nothing, merely herding them all onto the train and finding their seats.

He watched almost hungrily out of the window as they pulled out of London, seeing the landmarks flash by first – the Shard was at last hidden behind a tall red block of flats – then terraced houses, rows and rows of them; then suburbia – pretty houses with expansive gardens, children playing on swings or kicking a ball against the garage... Perhaps he was looking at it all through rose-tinted spectacles, but London had never been so idyllic. He didn't talk to the others, who were holding a conversation about something or other, so that he could fix the images in his mind of Britain, of his favourite places, of his memories...

Devon arrived in a flash of green, and, unexpectedly, Jason led them off the train here, saying something about afternoon tea. After a walk through a pretty village they arrived at a rose-covered little cafeteria with intricate white metal chairs on the enclosed patio, and there Jason bought everyone tea: hot, good quality tea and light scones filled to bursting with cream and jam. Hercules, Pythagoras and Icarus preferred to sit inside, but Jason led Ariadne outside, sitting her down at a table for two and pouring out her tea for her. The carrier bag on his arm was placed carefully on the floor; and just as he began to eat the sound of church bells began to resound, loud, clear and rather beautiful. He was slightly surprised, but smiled shyly and faced Ariadne, who had started at the sound of bells.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Church bells... probably a wedding,' Jason smiled, revelling in the rolling, joyous tones. He reached over the table and took her hand. 'It's quite ideal really, seeing as... Well, we got married back in your – our time, but I was thinking... It was a different wedding to the one I'm used to, and I wanted some souvenir, some memory of the future, so...' He stopped his disjointed sentences and reached into the bag, from which he drew two little black boxes. 'It's a bit belated, but... Here when there's a wedding the bride and groom get wedding rings.' And he opened the boxes to reveal two beautiful little rings, each studded with a stone – a diamond? – on which he had evidently spent a good amount of money.

Ariadne stared at the rings, not quite comprehending. Then Jason slipped one onto her finger, and one onto his. 'There. Now we're married here and in the past. Sort of.' He cast an apologetic grin at her, realising that his plan was better off unspoken, and, as the bells became louder and more glorious, and as the sun shone down on their beaming faces, he resorted just to kissing her. *

* * *

The sun was still shining when they arrived back in Cornwall, though it was beginning to sink towards the greyish horizon in a burst of colour. Jason stood a moment on the promenade, his hands going to the railing and his eyes staring out at the open sea, and then at the shingle below, in front of the sea wall, lapped at by the ceaseless motion of the waves. And at length he turned, and looked down the front, taking in the marvellously randomly coloured houses, the trees that rose up from the village and onto the cliffs. Then he sighed, not out of complete misery but out of something else, something unidentifiable – and looked then at his friends, who were scattered around a bench nearby, Pythagoras and Icarus with their arms around each other's shoulders, Ariadne talking in a low voice to Hercules, a small smile on her face as he perhaps cracked a joke or made some bluntly obvious remark. Suddenly he found the sight of them more beautiful even than his home, than anything in Britain, and decided that he could easily go back to Atlantis, could easily leave Cornwall and Mac behind, because he would be doing it for them, and they mattered more to him than anything else in the world.

* * *

The next day he was ready. The sky was cloudy but the wind out at sea perfect for going out in the _Scapha_ , reaching the fateful place where they would find out if the portal, if it existed, was there, and if they could traverse it and return.

But before they did that, he had an early farewell to wish.

Whilst his friends were otherwise occupied, he went to Mac, who was sitting on the jetty repairing what looked like a lobster net and whistling to himself. The older man looked up at Jason's arrival and greeted him; Jason smiled and sat down beside him. For a few minutes they were silent, but not uncomfortably so, sharing in each other's company. Mac knew Jason's intentions and didn't like them much, but he appreciated Jason's story and knew that Atlantis must exist, somehow, because of how much Jason longed to go back, the passion with which he spoke of his other life in the ancient world.

'Will you miss England?' asked Mac at length, though he already knew the answer.

'Very much...' murmured Jason. 'But... Mac, I'll miss you more.'

And a tear came to Mac's eye; he set down the lobster net and threw his arms around the boy, who returned the embrace, never wanting to let go... This couldn't be the last time he would see Mac – he would make sure it wasn't. Somehow... But just in case –

'I bought you something in London,' Jason said them, disentangling himself and bringing forth the bag that he had picked up in Waterloo station. 'I'm not very good at gifts, but...'

And he handed over the present: a little leather-bound notebook in which Jason had written all of the things he could not say for fear of crying, for fear of never wanting to leave. At the end of this heartfelt missive he had written in small and hesitant letters: _You know how to find me; you would be more than welcome in Atlantis if you wanted to come and join us._

Mac read all the way through the message in silence; and when he came to the end he looked up, his eyes glistening, his mouth unsure of what emotion to show.

'I shan't be coming just yet, I'm afraid,' he said with a sad smile. 'But one day... Maybe one day...'

And he wasn't saying that just to please Jason. Jason acknowledged this, and found himself thinking of the day when he would catch sight of that rugged, friendly face among the people of Atlantis...

* * *

* Atlantian Blood Liar – this is the wedding you asked for. Probably not quite what you were thinking of, but the best I could do. I hope you like it. :)

And apologies if it doesn't make a lot of sense to anyone else.


	10. Last Farewells

The six of them ate lunch together around the tiny kitchen table: their last meal in the future. Mac had gone out of his way to make and prepare all of the things he knew everyone liked, and they could not have been more grateful for this.

Afterwards they set off down to the boatyard, where they boarded the waiting _Scapha_ with a final glance towards the village, the houses along the promenade, the place that had, for a short while, been their home; and it had not been unwelcoming, despite their fears. Indeed they had almost enjoyed their time in England...

And they set off in the _Scapha_ , the Atlanteans out on deck with the wind in their hair and staring at the open water ahead; Mac was at the helm, directing his crew with a practised, if rather resigned, air; and the young sailor Harry was at the radar-screen – he would recognise the portal when they came to it.

Jason more than the others was uncharacteristically apprehensive. Was what he was doing too risky? What if one of them – all of them – drowned? Would they find safety on the other side, or would they end up in the middle of the sea with no means of reaching dry land? What if years had passed back in their time – what if they were too late to save Atlantis?

He swallowed: there was no going back now. These were risks he would have to be prepared to take.

'We've got something!'

Harry's cry seemed distant somehow, and he had to force himself from his thoughts, following Mac to the radar-screen, where Harry pointed out the large but indefinite signal shown as being right beneath them. Mac nodded and went to direct the ship away, to leave the area clear in preparation for the Atlanteans' dive.

Jason hesitated in the cabin, wavering, watching as the signal flickered a little; and then, steeling himself – he was a warrior and monarch of Atlantis, after all – he went to join his friends on the deck.

They watched the path of the spray as the _Scapha_ moved away from the point at which the portal had been spotted. Then Mac came over to them, his face set but his eyes betraying his emotions, and said, 'If you're going, you'd better go.'

They exchanged glances, wordlessly agreeing that this was the moment; and then Jason threw his arms around Mac, nearly bowling him over in this, his last farewell. The others, rather moved, shook hands with Mac, thanking him for his hospitality, assuring him that they would return his favour if ever he came to Atlantis.

Then they clambered onto the side of the boat, and at a sign from Jason they all jumped in together.

The last thing Jason remembered before the waves closed over him was the sight of Mac on the boat, waving, smiling sadly – and then the sea overwhelmed him and all went dark.

* * *

He broke the surface, feeling an unnerving sense of déjà vu as he trod water frantically, casting his gaze around him. The seawater stung his eyes and all was blurred, but among the blue of the sea and the sky he was sure he could distinguish something golden.

One after another his friends emerged, all conscious this time; and they were greatly cheered when they found that not only were they alive, but they appeared to have traversed the portal and reached their own time.

'Land!'

Jason was uncertain which of them had uttered this triumphant cry, but both Hercules and Icarus then propelled themselves forwards, heading for the line of yellow that was resolving itself into the beach at Atlantis – and it was barely a hundred yards from them, an easy distance to cross even for those among them who weren't strong swimmers.

Therefore they swam as best they could, rising and falling with the waves, until at last they were thrown onto the sands, rolling over, pushing themselves out of the way of the sea, struggling a little into a comfortable position before attempting to get up. Jason stood first, offering his hand to Ariadne; the others helped each other up; and they looked around them, marvelling at the view, hardly daring to believe that they were back at last.

On the hillside stood the grand fortress of Atlantis, golden and beautiful, its size and great walls deceptive with regard to the insecurity within; the Sun was on it, and it was quite the most magnificent sight any of them had seen.

'We're back,' Jason murmured.

And he clasped Ariadne's hand tighter, slipping his other arm around her shoulders, feeling her lean onto his own shoulder with a sigh of relief, kissing her lightly on the lips.

Icarus and Pythagoras exchanged glances. Then they shrugged; and Icarus kissed Pythagoras, flinging his arms around him, overjoyed by the events of the day and by the presence of his greatest friends. Behind them Hercules rolled his eyes a little but smiled, wistfully perhaps; but even he could not fail to be cheered by the sight of his home, and of his friends happy at last.

And together on the beach they clasped each others' hands, beamed at each other, enjoyed a minute of glorious peace before they had to return to the turmoiled city of Atlantis.

FINIS

* * *

 **This story may be over, but the tale of Atlantis continues in my sequel, which is called _Colchis_.**


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